The Monsters of Christmas Present
by Idreamofivan
Summary: Leave it to Sammy to feel sorry for the monsters that had used him as a baby piñata. Dean tried to forget the patchwork of cuts and bruises he was cleaning- with Whiskey- and he had sown last night -without anesthetics- belonged to his five-year-old brother. "Was I a bad boy?That's why Santa didn't bring any presents?" Who could guess this would turn into the best Christmas ever?
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first Supernatural fiction, I hope you guys like it. Unfortunately, I had a lot less time to proof read this than I would have wanted to, so forgive my mistakes. I do not own anything except the crappy, sappy plot. If the kids seem a little out of character, it is because in my mind they are so young, it is hard to picture them that terribly jaded already._

_**THE MONSTERS OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT **_

"So, Dad is helping the police chase the guys that did this to us?" His brother asked sitting on the couch and removing the make-shift bloody bandages that covered a great part of his body.

Dean nodded and walked towards the counter to fetch the alcohol. _"__The ones that are not dead, at least, and there is really no police, but yeah__… __they are being hunted alright.__" _He thought, thankful for the opportunity to have his back facing his brother as he retrieved the bottle. He grimace and clenched his teeth, cursing the pain away.

Big hazel puppy dog eyes followed his movements back to the couch. "Do you think the guys that did this to us also have a family that is now sad that they are not there with them for Christmas?"

Leave it to Sammy to feel sorry for the monsters that had used him as a baby piñata. The umpteenth invisible knife of the day stabbed his skull as he tried to forget the patchwork of cuts and bruises he was cleaning- with Whiskey- and he had sown last night -without any anesthetics- belonged to his five-year-old baby brother. Sammy's eyes, mouth and nose squinched and his whole body tensed up, but no complains came out of the kid as alcohol burnt through his cuts.

His brother avoided his eyes and focused on helping him wrap his wounds. "Was I a bad boy?" The voice was small, ashamed. "That's why Santa didn't bring me any presents?" And the pain in his head was forgotten as his heart sank into the bottomless pit inside him that he was so use to ignore by now.

Fuck, if dad would be here, he would know what to answer to his little charge. Then... he remembered his first Christmas after his mother died and realized that he was probably wrong. His dad would have no idea how to deal with Sammy without breaking him. And, if he was certain of something, is was that he wasn't going to let his little brother break. Not now, not ever, if he could help it.

Thank god, his baby bro came up with answer before he could. "No, it's not that. You don't have any presents either and you are the awesomest. You are always good, to me, to dad, to everybody. Santa probably wants to cover you with presents!"

He felt the familiar burnt behind his eyes from the tears he would never shed. "We left in a hurry, and you know how great Dad is at hiding. Santa probably hasn't been able to find us yet."

"You think maybe he got confused and left the presents in the motel we were staying last night?"

_"The same motel room that was probably now a crime scene and not even the inexistent Santa would dare entering without gasping? Probably not," _he thought sarcastically, more disillusioned than any nine year old should be. But painted a smile on his face and answered, "Maybe." As his heart slowly crawled back to its place and his the pain in his head reminded him it was still there. He inspected his brother's wound carefully, making sure he hadn't missed anything.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?" He willed his headache away as he scrutinized Sam's face. It wasn't beyond the five year old to lie about his injuries so he wouldn't worry about him.

Sam just shook his head and shrugged. "I don't care that much about the presents. I just wished Dad was here with us."

He ruffled the kid's brown hair. "Dad is helping the police catch the bad guys, to make sure they never hurt you or any other kid again, Kiddo," He lied. They had agreed with Dad that Sammy was too young to know the truth about what their Dad was doing. Even if Dean had known since he was four, he was going to make damn sure that his kid remained a kid as long as he could manage. It was his job to take care of Sammy! And, making sure his kiddo didn't spend his life scared shitless about the things that lured in the dark, about whether their Dad was going to come back every time he left the room, was part of taking care of him. Sam was not going to become a dead-inside-soldier like he was already. No, Sammy was going to be happy, worry about normal things like schools and dates. He was going to go to college, get married, have many happy christmases and have a nice life, even if he had to give up every second of his own life to make sure that happened. "He'll be here as soon as he can, I am sure he is as upset as we are that he can't be here with us for Christmas."

He felt like adamantly defending his father against his brother's noncommittal shrug but was hit by wave of nausea courtesy of his dizzy and achy melon. "Dad is being hero!" Was all he managed, closing his eyes.

He wanted his dad there too. He wanted someone to take care of Sammy for a few minutes so he could go rest. His head was killing him and his whole left side ached. The monsters that wanted to show their father a lesson had frisbeed him against the wall as soon as they got into their motel room. He had been out of commission for the whole fight. Sammy on the other hand, lashed and entertained them for a lot longer, up until Dad had shown up and killed most of them. But his had was a hero. He had a tough job. He saved the world on a daily basis. Dean's job was easy, he just had to take care of Sammy. And the kid was a good boy. He never complained when he burnt their food or were forced to eat cereal over and over again. He had even learnt to order pizza and heat it up in the electric oven. He cleaned after himself. He never ratted him out if he left him alone for half an hour to go play with his friends. And he was so smart, he already read better than he did. He hated to admit it, but sometimes he even helped him with his own homework.

"Your turn now," the childish voice beside him startled him. He had probably spaced out for a minute, because Sammy was now beside him, arms stretched towards him. A glass of water on one hand, a painkiller pill on the other.

"What? Where did you get that?" Dean had searched high and low for painkillers the night before.

Sammy shrugged again. "Take it," he commanded.

"What? No. You take it. I am not the one that was hash-browned!"

The little brat pushed the pill closer to his mouth and insisted, "I am ok. I know your head and your shoulder hurt!"

Dean pushed the hand away. "No! You take it!"

"Ok. We'll split in half, deal?" The brat mischievous smile warmed Dean's heart and brought it farther and farther from the endless pit.

The tablet was big, and Sammy was so tiny. He probably shouldn't even be having a full dose in one sitting anyway. But he could split it and have a painless little brother for several hours. On the other hand, the little brat would never agree to that and he would have to force him. Dean was too exhausted and in pain to fight. "Ok." He agreed taking the pill and splitting it up in half. He was already regretting his selfish act.

"Get me some more water." Sammy gave him his patented puppy dog eyes, pouting in a a way he knew Dean was unable to refuse as he grabbed both pieces of the medicine. Little manipulative bastard! Incapable of resisting, he stood up and went to get another glass with water.

"Here!" The tiny commander pushed the water and half tablet on his face again when he was back.

His mouth started to form a complain when tears started streaming down Sammy's face as he pushed the pill even closer. He placed the glass he had brought on the coffee table and grabbed the one his brother was offering. "Ok, Ok, don't cry." He stuttered, hurrying the pill and water down his throat.

His brother smiled widely behind the empty glass. Canny little thief! "Ok, your turn now." He said picking up his glass and offering to the rugrat.

The brown locks shook. "I can't."

"Why not? Of course you can." He pushed the glass towards him.

His voice was sheepish, almost apologetic. "I don't have it any more."

'What do you mean you don't have it. Where is it?"

Hazel eyes looked up at him, amused and concerned. "I mashed it up and put it in your water?"

"What?" The glass hit the table with a thump and Dean face got threateningly close to his brothers'.

Sammy, the little rascal, remained unflappable as he patted his big brother's knee. "You should go sleep now. I'll take care of you."

'What? Are you crazy?"

"Your head hurts, your body aches, and you didn't sleep at all last night because you were taking care of me. I am better now, I can take care of you." Dean couldn't help thinking that his voice sounded a lot older than the five years old he knew he had. His heart took another dive to the bottomless pit. This was so not what he wanted for him Sammy. This was wrong! Sammy was a baby, he had to be!

"And what if dad comes and see I am sleeping instead of taking care of you? I'll never hear the end of it! He is going to kill me. Is that what you want?" Like Sammy was the only one who knew which buttons to push!

One of Sam's index fingers covered his mouth as sweet big eyes looked at him for a long time, contemplating the options. "Ok, let's go watch TV." He offered a truce, slumping on his bed and turning on the Tv. He patted the space beside him and Dean followed him, too tired to even think straight.

He woke up, god knows how long afterwards to the sound of Christmas carols and the fog of painkillers. The bed felt cold and empty. The Tv was still on, but where was Sammy?

"Sammy?" He screamed without luck.

Dean's ticker threatened with a heart attack. His head exploding in a million white lights as any traces of cloudiness left his brain. He ran to the bathroom…looked out the window… The motel room was the size of a microwave, no places to hide! And then he saw it, right beside the tv, there was a note. "Be righ back." Sam's childish scribble told him.

He grabbed the note with shaky hands, looking at it as if it could suddenly start talking. He closed his burning eyes. "Sammy where did you go?" A thousand images of his little brother in mortal danger crossed his mind and he crumpled the piece of paper in his hand.

He took a deep breath to calm himself and ran to get his coat when he saw his brother through the window. He was strolling towards the door with a calm and almost smug look on his face, carrying three enormous take-out bags. Mini-bastard! He was going to kill him.

He opened the door before Sam could get to it and stood by the door frame as menacing as his nine years old allowed him to. "Where were you?" He made sure his voice sounded furious, even if all he felt was exhaustion and relief. "You know the rules, never, ever, leave the room alone. RULE NUMBER ONE, Sam! It's dangerous! "

Sammy smug look was gone, and now he only looked heart broken and guilty. Dean thought it was unfair that he had to discipline his baby brother. He should be the one teaching him how to break the rules, not being the enforcer!

"We didn't have any food. It's Christmas and I know you love burgers. I just wanted you to have burgers!" He practically sobbed.

"I want my brother safe more than I want burgers!" He yelled, making his own head pounce. Grabbing the bags from his brothers, he eyed the content. "Where did you get all this?"

"The diner right there," He pouted pointing to his left. It took Dean a second to remember the motel was in one of those strip malls. "I didn't cross the street! I was gone for less than fifteen minutes, Dean, I promise!" Sammy crossed his heart.

"How did you get all this food? You couldn't have had more than five bucks!" Dean let his anger fade away a little. He was just so tired, no nine year old should feel so tired of life.

Sammy's smug, mischievous grin came back. "I looked at them very, very sad and explained that we had been in a car accident. I told them that dad was in the hospital with our mom and had left us alone and without any money and that your head hurt a lot and you liked burgers."

Dean couldn't help laughing. At least he wasn't the only sucker who fell for the kid's puppy dog eyes and they definitely looked like he had been in a car accident.

Sammy walked to the kitchenette and grabbed some plates. "Wanna eat?" he asked.

Dean felt nauseous and tired but he still sat down and opened the container with a smile. He gave the first burger to Sammy and grabbed another one for himself. He was chugging, hopefully looking more enthusiastic than the pit in his stomach and the dizziness in his head allowed him to be when a noise startled them.

**TBC…. One more chapter to go.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II:**

Sammy walked to the kitchenette and grabbed some plates. "Wanna eat?" he asked.

Dean felt nauseous and tired but he still sat down and opened the container with a smile. He gave the first burger to Sammy and grabbed another one for himself. He was chugging, hopefully looking more enthusiastic than the pit in his stomach and the dizziness in his head allowed him to be when a noise startled them.

Both kid's eyes darted to the phone and Dean's hand reached for it with a speed that even surprised him. "Dad?" he asked without even looking at the caller ID.

"Hey, Dean!" A familiar and tired voice smiled on the other end of the line. "How is Sammy doing?"

Of course Dad would ask that first, it was his job to make sure the kid was ok, always. Dean's eyes inspected his brother. "Better."

"Did you clean up his wounds?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hi, Dad!" Sammy's childish voice screamed behind him, as he tip toed to reach as close to the phone as he could. "Merry Christmas! Are you coming soon?"

Dean heard his Dad chuckle. "Dad's says Merry Christmas, too." He told his brother even if his father didn't. He knew the sentiment was there, somewhere. "Now, sit down and eat your food, it's going to get cold!"

"You got food, great! I was scared there was not enough money. Make sure the kid eats, he is too skinny."

"Of course, Dad. And, yeah, Sam puppy-dog-eyed some waiters at the diner, we have enough food for a decade now!"

John's tired chuckle reappeared and pride tinted his voice. "Of course he did. That kid could charm a vampire out of eating him if he wanted."

Dean couldn't help feeling jealous. Why did Sam always had to come first? Why was he the one in the receiving end of all his Dad's proud comments? Dean wanted so bad to make his Dad proud, even for an instant. He wanted so bad to be the one his Dad asked about first.

As if reading his mind, John continued. "What about you? How's your head doing?"

"I am fine, Dad, don't worry about me." He responded automatically, not sure what to do with the attention now that he got it.

"I am glad to hear that, Kiddo. You need to take care of yourself too, ok?"

"Sure, Dad." Dean brushed him off.

"I mean it, Dean. Taking care of Sammy doesn't mean ignoring your own injuries, ok?"

"I am ok, Dad." He repeated.

He heard John sigh on the phone. "Kiddo, Sam is counting on you, I am counting on you. We need you to stay healthy and take care of yourself."

"You can count on me, Dad." Dean promised.

John sighed one more time. "I know that, Boy." He sounded defeated and Dean wondered what had he done this time to disappoint his father, again. "Did you salt the windows and doors?"

"Of course, Dad. I also got the silver knife and everything. Don't worry about us, Dad. I have it covered."

"I know you do." John sounded guilty and Dean, again knew it was his fault, though he couldn't understand why. He had done everything his Dad wanted.

"How are _you_ doing, Dad?"

"I am done, Kiddo. Heading home, I will be there in like an hour or so."

"That's awesome, Dad!" He hadn't expected his father to be done so fast, but he guessed most of the monsters had not even managed to escape the motel room. Nobody messed with his Dad or worse, with his kids. "Sam is concerned that Santa might have accidentally left our presents in the motel we where at last night. Since he didn't come here. Do you think you can stop by there and check?" Dean hoped his Dad caught his hint. He didn't know if his Dad forgot to buy presents or if they were in the trunk of his car. And he didn't care, he could live with knowing that his Dad had forgotten about Christmas. His Dad was a busy man. But, so much had been taken away from Sammy already. His baby brother really, really, deserved to have a real Christmas.

"Oh, crap. Dean, I am so sorry! I'll make it up to you, I promise. Give me two hours. I'll be there in two hours and we'll have a real Christmas. Gotta go. Love you. Take care of Sammy and take care of yourself, ok?"

"Of course, Dad." He answered, even when he knew his Dad had already hang up.

Two hours later they heard the Impala's familiar roar come to a halt and a knock on the door. This time, Sammy was faster than Dean, who had been working hard at not falling asleep while watching old Christmas movies re-runs. Sam, on the other hand, was a little ball of energy. He kept on shifting positions on the bed. Dean imagined it was as partially because he was a five year old restless boy but mostly because no position could be comfortable for more than a minute when your whole body is covered with cuts and bruises. Still, he stayed in bed, swearing he just wanted to watch TV, no matter how much Dean insisted on doing something else. Dean knew it was his brother's way to make sure he could rest a bit. Sam might had even been hoping he was going to fall asleep again - He WASN'T going to make the same mistake twice. But what else could he do? He wasn't going to start moving around if Sammy was lying in bed, and the kid was fucking stubborn when he wanted to.

Their Dad's hands were full. One arm was wrapping a small, yet fully decorated -lights and all- Christmas tree and holding several take out backs. Colorful wrapping could be seen escaping from the top of the insane amount of bags the other arm was holding.

Dean had stood up and was walking slowly towards the door when his Dad stepped in. "Ho,Ho, Ho." The older man faked a Santa's laugh. "Merry Christmas!"

All the pain, all the tiredness, everything, was worth just to see Sammy's face light up. The kid hugged his father's leg and squealed. "You are here Dad! And you found the presents! You even brought a Christmas tree. Look Dean, we even have a Christmas tree."

Dean laughed quietly, closing the door behind his father. "I know kiddo. Now why don't you let Dad go so he can actually walk and we can set the tree up?"

The boy set his father's leg free hastily and ran to clean up a corner of the room. "Here, Dad, put it here!"

John's tired eyes sparkled with joy and amusement as he walked towards his youngest and placed the tree where he indicated, plugging the cord and letting the lights shine. "Here," he said getting a star out of one of the bags and handing it to the eager five-year-old. "I thought you might want to put this up."

Sammy clapped, bouncing up and down, and took the star. The tree was small enough that he didn't need help to get to the top, but in his eyes, this was the awesomest christmas tree ever, and that was all Dean cared about. He couldn't help smiling as his brother carefully maneuvered the star on top of the tree. "Look Dean, I got to put the star on the top!" The voice was childish and hyper-excited, just the way Dean liked it. John was kneeling beside the boy, caressing his hair and staring at him with so much love and joy, that it almost seemed like the weight of the world -that was always on his shoulder- had disappeared. Dean laughed, this was turning out to be a great Christmas after all!

Sammy continued to clap, fixed in front of the Christmas tree as if it was some sort of enchanted creature and John, still caressing the boy's hair turned to look at smile. "Thank you," Dean mouthed. He knew Sammy's happiness meant as much to his Dad as it did to him. But that was his kid and as much as he tried, he couldn't always give him everything he needed.

"Come here," his Dad waved his hand towards himself. Dean obliged and was wrapped in a one arm loose hug, his father's other hand, still placed on top of Sammy's head. "Merry Christmas, Dean." His Dad smiled and eyes filled with feelings bored into his and made him uncomfortable. He saw love in them, he was almost sure of that. Maybe he saw pride? He hoped there was pride somewhere. There was concern for sure and guilt… and tiredness… and sadness and joy at the same time and so many things he was not good at reading.

Sammy woke up from his tree trance and also wrapped him into a bear hug. "Merry Christmas, Dean!" he repeated and Dean's aches and tiredness almost faded away.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy." He hugged his brother back. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

Sammy disengaged from him and hugged his father. "Merry Christmas, Dad!"

John closed his eyes and invested all his being in hugging the kid back. "Merry Christmas, Sammy. Now, who wants presents?"

"Me, me, me," Sam bounced.

But still, their Dad made them wait. He wanted to do it the right way, so he went through the bags that laid forgotten on the floor.

The first few bags contained a Christmas feast. The older man laughed following Dean's wide opened eyes as John placed dish after dish on the table. A turkey, some ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn on the cob, potato salad, some green salad, two slices of apple pie, two of pumpkin pie, one of cherry pie, two of pecan pie… so many pies… Dean loved pie! The tree might have been for Sammy, but the food, the food was for Dean and he knew it. Except for the green salad; that was all for Sam.

After that, John's hands carefully arranged the presents under the tree and he asked them to sit on the floor. "Ok Sam, you can pick one now." He said when he was satisfied they looked as much as the picket fenced family as they were going to get.

Sam's grin could not get wider and he reached for the first gift. "D-ean," he read the label, "It's for you."

Dean took the gift his brother was offering and tore through the wrapping more excited that he cared to admit. "A leather jacket, Dad, just like yours. This is awesome!"

"Now me, me!" Sammy didn't wait until Dean finished savoring his gift before looking for another package with his name on it.

Eyes sparkled and John's smile grew wider and wider with each "oh-s" and "ah-s" coming from his kids' mouth. Sam also got a matching leader jacket, a G.I Joe action figure, a glow in the dark Lego train and a shot gun, that looked so real it took Dean a while to figure out it was just a toy.

Dean, on his part, got a real shot gun, a remote control helicopter and some more G.I Joe action figure.

Overall, despite the pain and the exhaustion, this was turning out to be the best Christmas he had had since his Mom died, and they hadn't even had the food yet.

Dean- Sam-John-Dean- Sam-John-Dean- Sam-John-Dean- Sam-John-Dean- Sam-John-

Two hours later, Dean was finally finishing the last slice of pie and feeling a fullness he hadn't felt in years. Not only his stomach was ready to burst, but the bottomless pit had been covered with food and Christmas cheer.

Sammy bounced to their father and hovered behind his ear. His hand covered his mouth as he whispered something that Dean missed. John listened carefully, his eyes sliding from Dean to a point as close to Sam as he physically could, and back to Dean with a caring smile on his face. Once Sammy was done, John nodded and placed his youngest on his lap.

"Dean, I think it's time you take a nap." John ordered. Sneaky little bastard had ratted him off.

"Dad…" he started, but the look on his father's face gave no room for argument.

"Remember how we were talking about you taking care of yourself?"

He nodded, eyes glued to the floor. "Yes, but…"

"Dean, your eyes are glassy and unfocussed, you are wincing when you believe no one is looking, and you haven't slept last night after being used as an experiment for cordless bun jee jumping. You are going to sleep now. Sammy and I will be ok."

Dean wanted to argue that his Dad hadn't slept the night before either, that it was only five pm, that he really wanted to enjoy that day a little longer. But Dean never argued with his Dad, he just couldn't. So, he put more anger in his glare than he really felt and nodded as dragged his feet to the bed. He didn't bother changing, he was wearing sweat pants anyway. He had changed the night before after his clothes got covered in Sammy's blood and hadn't bother to put something else that day.

Despite how much he wanted to stay awake, the bed felt so good. The pounding in his head was easing up a little, the ached muscles slowly relaxing. _"__Mom,__"_ he prayed "_I don__'__t know if you can hear me. You know I have never asked you for anything, but I need your help. Sammy never had a mom, not like I did. He never had a home. A bed of his own. Hell, he has never even been in one place for longer than a month in his life. And I am trying, as hard as I can, but I don__'__t know if its enough. Please, help me. Help me make sure that he can stay a kid for as long as possible. Please, help me make sure that my baby brother isn__'__t forced to grow as fast as I had to. So much has been taken away from him already, we need to make sure his childhood is not taken too. I love you, Mom. I miss you.__"_


End file.
